


Like A Goddamned Teen Romcom

by itsallAvengers



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Crushes, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Highly Awkward Teenagers Attempt Eye Contact For More Than One Single Second, Idk He accidentally acquired two kids and now they wont leave him alone, M/M, Mutual Pining, Parent Tony Stark, Precious Peter Parker, Secret Identity, Teen Romance, Tony Stark does not get paid enough for this, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 06:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18382871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsallAvengers/pseuds/itsallAvengers
Summary: Tony didn't sign up for a whole week of being caught in the middle of Peter Parker and Harley Keener's awkward teenage attempts at wooing one another, but here he is.He just has to hope they'll get their heads outta their asses and justask each other out, dammit





	Like A Goddamned Teen Romcom

“Red.”

“No.”

“Blue.”

“Nope.”

“Uhh, we’re running outta colours here. Green?”

At the breakfast table, Tony sighed loudly. “Pete, I want to dye my hair to piss Pepper off, not turn myself into walking radioactive waste. Not green.”

Peter threw up his hands. “What’s wrong with red! It’s cool, it’ll match your suit, and it’ll probably drive Miss Potts insane.”

“I’d need to dye my hair blonde before it went red, d’you know how bad that would be for it? I don’t want to destroy my follicles. They're delicate things and my stylist will rip my head off entirely if I tamper with them.”

With a sigh, Peter raised the cup of coffee to his lips and took a large sip. It was common knowledge that Tony wasn’t particularly coherent before 11am and two double espressos, but Peter really hoped that Tony wouldn’t _actually_ end up dying his hair. As amusing as that would be, Miss Potts would absolutely skin him alive, and Peter kind of liked having Iron Man around on hand to help him fight crime sometimes.

He was at the tower early on a Saturday for one reason and one reason alone: Science. Over the past few weeks he knew that Tony and Dr. Banner had been working on something big to do with green energy and were close to breaking through, and Peter couldn’t resist just asking to be part of it, simply to observe more than anything. Of course, Tony had said yes- and so here Peter was, ready to go down to Tony’s workshop and watch the magic happen. Dr. Bruce was supposed to be arriving sometime in the afternoon, so until then it’d just be him and Tony going through the specs and running simulations. He was practically buzzing with excitement- science was always fun, but science with  _Tony Stark and Bruce Banner?_

God, sometimes Peter couldn’t even believe his life was real.

He chewed on a croissant absently as he scrolled through his instagram, grinning at some of the comments left on his photos. His profile was pretty famous- once Tony had bought him a good quality camera for his birthday, Peter had pretty much gone wild with the whole photography thing, and for some reason a lot of people on the internet had liked it, because he was on nearly 150,000 followers and counting. It was pretty trippy, really. He rolled his eyes at a comment he saw MJ had left- something mildly insulting about his choice of footwear- and then quickly shot off a reply, before switching off his phone and turning back to Tony, who had migrated from the table to one of the counters, where he was sat chewing on an apple and fiddling with the toaster.

“I thought you said you were gonna stop messing with Brian,” Peter told him with a frown, “he doesn’t like it when you tinker.”

“No, you  _think_ he doesn’t like it when I tinker, because for some reason you associate his low-pitched beeping with sadness,” Tony told him, tongue starting to stick out as he grabbed a screwdriver from his pocket, “he’s not actually sad. He likes upgrades. Look at him,” Tony held the machine up in his hands, grinning when the sentient toaster beeped three times, “he’s fine.”

Peter pulled a face, but let it drop. Sentient kitchenware was the norm in this place. “When are we gonna go down to the shop then?” He asked somewhat excitedly, fingers curling back around the mug of coffee on the table, “I’ll have to head home at about six for dinner, but I’ve got the rest of the day here.”

“Oh, lucky me,” Tony said, shooting a fond grin over at Peter, “as for the shop- you can head down whenever you want, as long as you don’t touch, tamper or blow up any of my stuff while you’re there.”

Peter pouted. “Then what’s the point of me going down at all?”

“To observe my brilliance and pure genius?” Tony tried, and then when Peter pulled an unimpressed face, he sighed loudly, “God, I swear kids used to be more respectful in my day. I swear  _you_ used to be more respectful. What happened?”

Peter grinned. “I got to know you,” he said simply, taking a sip of his coffee.

Tony glared at him and threw a corner of toast at his head, opening his mouth to undoubtedly curse Peter’s name- however he was interrupted by the sound of sliding elevator doors, and both of them turned to the sound of the noise. Peter subconsciously sat a little straighter- undoubtedly it’d be Miss Potts, and her immaculate visage always made Peter feel way too underdressed for- well-  _life_.

But then the person stepped out, and Peter realised very rapidly that it was not Miss Potts.

It was, in fact, one of the prettiest people that Peter had ever seen.

The boy was maybe an inch or so shorter than Peter, with hair that curled over his forehead and fell into bright blue eyes. He was grinning cheekily from ear to ear and clutching a suitcase in his left hand, the other one shoved into the pocket of his jeans. He had an air of mischief about him, and he held himself with confidence and ease. 

“Tony, your son has arrived,” he said, and Peter promptly inhaled his coffee.

A few feet away from him, Tony sighed and then put down the toaster, wandering over to hit Peter on the back a few times and clear his airways. “Harley, how many times do I have to tell you- don’t start your conversations like that when there are strangers in the room. You nearly killed Pepper last time, and now look, you’re making Peter choke. You good kid?” He asked Peter, who just gasped and then nodded a few times, his eyes watering.

He looked at the boy- Harley, Tony had said- again, and his eyes widened in shock. “You’re Tony’s  _son?”_  He asked incredulously before turning to Tony,  _“you have a son?”_

“I don’t have a son,” Tony told him, just as Harley grinned and said, “yeah, he has a son.”

“Harley likes to be a shithead,” Tony informed Peter with a pat on the shoulder and a roll of his eyes, wandering off and over to the other kid whilst Peter just gaped, “but no, we are in no way related. He basically just met me a few years ago and imprinted like a baby duckling, and he hasn’t left me alone since.” Tony grinned and then ruffled his hair, pulling Harley into a one-armed hug. The other boy returned it fondly- and Peter could see just over the course of the last few seconds that these two were obviously close. They must have known eachother a while. 

Harley switched his gaze back over to Peter, blinking a few times before smiling. “Hi,” he said, “uh- you’re Peter, right?”

Peter suddenly forgot how to use his speech.  _Fuck_ , that boy’s eyes were pretty. Like… warm ice. If that even made sense. He nodded jerkily and then smiled back, picking out a carefully selected word from his memory banks. “Yeah.”

Harley grinned- Oh God, he had a pretty smile too. “Cool,” he said, “I’ve heard about you before. Nice to meet you.”

He’d heard about Peter? From Tony? Oh God, then that meant Harley had probably heard all the embarrassing stories, what the fuck, he was going to kill Tony  _dead_. “I- I haven’t heard anything about you,” he responded, before realising how terrible that sounded and jerking his hands up into the air, “not that- I mean- I meant to say, how do you two know eachother?”

Tony pulled a face and nudged Harley in the ribs. “Long story,” was all he said, waving his hand and then kicking Harley’s bag lightly, “you go get unpacked, kid, and then come down and meet me and Pete in the workshop, alright? I wanna get set up.”

Harley nodded and turned away, heading back to the elevator with a laid-back whistle. Peter’s eyes slid downward for a moment, before he forced them back up and blinked rapidly. God, he needed to get a grip. Harley had a suitcase which meant, for some reason, this strange kid was staying over in the tower with them- and that also meant that Peter might be seeing a lot of him. If that was the case, it wouldn’t do to get all… tongue tied, whenever he was in the same room as him. Peter needed to be cool. And calm. And possibly suave. Maybe even _alluring-_

“Peter?” He blinked, turning his head back to Tony, who was now alone and looking over at him curiously. “Did you– were you even listening?”

He stuck out his chin, pondering it. “Uhhh. No.”

Tony sighed. “Your company is always appreciated, Parker.”

He shifted on his seat and leaned forward, glancing back to the elevator before going back to Tony again. “Soooooo,” he tried to sound casual as he tapped his fingers against the table, “uh, who was that then?”

Tony wandered back into the kitchen, over to Brian the Toaster. “Harley,” he said simply, “met him in Tennessee back when I was fighting the Mandarin. Kept contact with him ever since. He’s a dumbass.”

Peter frowned. “He doesn’t seem like a dumbass,” he said, “he seems… nice.” When Tony turned and looked at him curiously, Peter just shrugged and waved a hand. “What? He’s got a nice smile!”

“He’s got a smile that makes me fear for my safety,” Tony mumbled, “but I guess you can think what you want about it. Sure you’ll get on like a house on fire- just don’t take anything he says seriously. He likes to joke.”

Peter nodded. “Is he with anyone?” He asked- and then widened his eyes as, once again, he realised that had more than one meaning, “I- not as in girlfriend-sense, as in, you know… others. Parents.”

Tony shot him a strange look. “I know that was what you meant,” he said slowly, “why would you… okay, whatever, moving on- no, he’s not here with anyone. He’s just staying over for a few nights ‘cause he wouldn’t quit bugging me about seeing this new project, just like you. So.”

“Right,” Peter said, running his fingers across the rim of his mug. There were a hundred other things he wanted to ask the man, but he didn’t want to sound weird. He guessed he would just be able to ask Harley himself, when he came back down.

Or maybe not. Peter wasn’t so great when it came to… you know… talking. To people. Who were hot.

“Just out of interest,” Peter asked Tony as they both stood up to leave for the workshop,  _“is_  he with anyone? Like- girlfriends or anything?”

Tony stopped, turning his head to look at Peter rapidly. He stared for a second, before a small smile started to crack on his face; smug and knowing and spelling terrible things for Peter. He swore his spider-sense started to tingle a little at the look on his dumb mentor’s face. “Ohhhhhh,” Tony said in sing-song while Peter’s face dropped and he raised a hand warningly,  _“ohh_ , Peter Parker, do you have a-”

“-No no no, I was just  _wondering_ , Tony,  _wondering,”_ Peter said hurriedly, but of course, he’d made it too obvious and Tony had worked it out, dancing around Peter like a five-year-old asshole and poking him in the cheek.

“You like Harley!” He said in delight, “you  _liiiiiiike_ him, wow, look at that blush!” He cackled as Peter just shoved him away grouchily, but then strung an arm over Peter and squeezed, his expression ecstatic. “But for the record, no, there’s no girlfriend. And I’m pretty sure he said something about being Pan, so…” he shrugged and then grinned, pinching Peter’s cheek, “go for gold, my newly sexually awakened Spiderboy-”

“Eugh,  _gross_ , shut up Tony,” Peter yelped and pulled a face, shoving him again, “I’m not- he’s not that… just shut up. We should be doing science. And do not tell him  _anything_ , okay? I just…” He shrugged, feeling his blush deepen as he looked at the ceiling, “I just think he’s- he’s cute, that’s all. It’s not like I’m in  _love_ with him or anything- I haven’t even said more than ten words to him.”

Tony’s eyebrows wiggled up and down. He was obviously taking a lot of damn enjoyment out of this, and Peter did not appreciate it. “Well, luckily you have a whole week to woo him. He’s staying over at my tower for a little bit, and we’re all gonna be working on this science project together, so it’ll be  _real_ nice and cosy for the two of you!”

Oh dear Lord, he should never have let Tony catch onto this. “Do  _not_ try to play matchmaker,” Peter said firmly, raising a finger, “do not even think about it.  I can tell you’re thinking about it-”

“-I’m not thinking about it-”

“-and I am telling you,  _don’t_.” Peter sighed, pressing two fingers into his forehead and shutting his eyes. “I don’t even know him, I literally just think that he’s cute.” Very very, ridiculously, should-be-illegal cute. But still. That was it.

Tony sniggered, but raised his hands in defeat all the same, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “Alright, alright, I’ll keep my old-man nose out of your business,” he said with a dramatic sigh, pushing Peter toward the stairs and then stopping in his own tracks. “You head down to the shop. I’m gonna go talk to Harley, see if he needs anything.”

“Tony-”

“I promise, I promise, alright! I won’t say a word.” Tony looked like he was seconds away from bursting out into laughter, but Peter knew when Tony made a promise he kept it, so he didn’t worry too much. Just pulled a face and turned his back with an irritated huff. “There’s some tweezers in the bottom left drawer of my desk if you wanna make a last-ditch attempt to sort out that left eyebrow of yours, if you want.”

“Oh my god, just go away,” Peter muttered, cheeks flushed crimson as he remembered the little piece of information and wondered whether he would actually be able to get away with giving himself a little tidy-up before the two of them came back down to the lab. Just to keep up appearances and such. 

God. this week suddenly seemed a lot more difficult than it had done five minutes ago.

 

-

-

 

As soon as Harley sat his suitcase on the guest bed and made sure the door was firmly locked, he gave himself a moment to internally freak the Goddamn hell out. 

That was Peter Parker. 

Fuck, that was  _Peter Parker._

He swore under his breath and then ran his hands frantically through his hair, trying to smooth it out. He hadn’t even goddamn combed it through that morning, fully expecting to only see Tony in the tower, maybe Doctor Banner if he arrived early. He certainly had not been expecting Peter Parker to just be…. just be sat there, drinking coffee and looking every bit as perfect as he did on his instagram pictures. Harley had thought they had to be at least a tiny bit photoshopped, because surely someone’s hair couldn’t curl  _that_ prettily, their face couldn’t smile  _so_  beautifully- but nope. He’d walked into that goddamn kitchen, and Peter Parker had looked at him and smiled, and Harley had had to delve into the deepest recesses of his mind just to remember how to function like a normal human being. 

Peter Parker.

Harley followed his instagram page religiously. He could admit that he was more than just a little bit infatuated with the boy- he always looked so perfect, and he seemed so kind. Tony talked about him sometimes too- because of course Peter was also a genius that Tony Stark had taken under his wing- and when he did, Harley only ever got the idea that Peter Parker was one of the best people on the planet. Tony clearly rated him highly. For months, Harley had been working out a way for them to maybe-possibly-perhaps meet up, so that he could maybe-possibly-perhaps find a way to get Peter to fall immediately in love with him. 

But not here, not now, when Harley looked like death on two legs and hadn’t showered in days. Also, they were about to all go and do science together, which meant Peter would see Harley working off twelve cups of coffee and a redbull, which would probably terrify the boy beyond belief. 

Oh God, this was terrible. 

He stood jerkily and cursed again, pulling a face at his reflection when he passed it in the mirror. He could shower now, put on some fresh clothes and try to get his hair to do something that  _didn’t_ make itlook like it was attempting to defy gravity, and then… then just do his best to treat Peter as if he wasn’t the person Harley religiously stalked on instagram. 

Wow, that sounded fucking creepy. Harley hadn’t even said more than five words to the boy, and he already knew it was going to go terribly. 

He’d just finished setting out his chosen outfit (definitely clean, probably not that appropriate for sciencing in, but definitely cool) onto the bed and was grabbing a towel to shower when Tony knocked on the door. Harley turned on his heel, throwing it open and then immediately pointing an accusing finger when he caught sight of the man. “You failed to inform me that I would not be the only young person here,” he said immediately. 

Tony looked at him with a shrug, stepping into his room and looking around, “To be fair, Peter didn’t know either,” he looked down at the bed in distaste, “Harley Keener, it’s been five minutes and you’ve already made my room look like it got bombed. How do you even manage that?”

Harley shut the door and then leaned against it, sighing. “Tony, that’s Peter Parker,” he whined.

Tony pulled a face. “Yes, it is, well done,” he said, “what about it?”

Harley just spluttered. “It’s… everything about it! I follow him on instagram, I look at his posts every day, he’s awesome and funny and cute and now he’s just  _here_ and you didn’t even  _warn me_  and my hair is messy and-”

“Whoah whaoh,” Tony made a ‘time-out’ gesture with his hands, squinting at Harley, “since when did you care about how you look? I’ve never seen you take more than two minutes to get ready in my life.”

“I– I always care-”

“Harley, you once got gum stuck in your hair and left it in there for a week.”

He blushed, folding his arms defensively. “Maybe I’ve turned over a new leaf, huh?” He mumbled, “maybe I care now, when there are cute boys in the immediate vicinity which _you failed to tell me about._ I only brought my homeless-rat clothes! I don’t want Peter Parker to think I’m a homeless rat!”

Tony froze. And then he sighed, very loudly and dramatically. “Oh my God,” he muttered, “this is going to be a long week. This is…. a very, very long week. Wow.” He turned back to Harley and clapped him on the shoulder, giving him an assuring smile. “I promise, Peter also looks like a homeless rat when he’s working. You will be like a match made in awkward-teenager heaven.”

Harley just sighed, slumping against the door dejectedly. “Peter Parker would never look like a homeless rat,” he muttered, “Peter Parker is perfect. Have you not seen his instagram?”

“I have,” Tony pulled a face, “and I fail to see how a picture of his scrambled eggs managed to gather 30,000 likes. Jheeze, if you like him so much, just ask him out.”

“I can’t ask him out!”

“Why the damn hell not? I didn’t even think you owned an impulse control and I’ve sure as hell never seen you act shy around strangers before. You nearly shot me in the face when you first met me, and you were, like, seven years old.”

Harley sputtered, waving a hand as he felt his cheeks go pink. “Because he’s– he’s Peter Parker,” he said weakly.

Tony just looked at him, and then threw his hands up in the air. “That makes no fucking sense, but whatever,” he said with a sigh. Harley just flipped him off. He was having a  _crisis_ here, and Tony was being no help whatsoever. 

Maybe he could go steal some of Tony’s makeup. Or his clothes. They were roughly the same size at that point, although Tony was more filled out- but baggy clothes were in right now, yeah? Peter would think he was cool, and less rat-like than he would if he turned up in his white-faded-to-gray sweater that had super noodle stains on the collar and smelled vaguely like Monster energy drink. “Can I pilfer through your wardrobe and get some clothes?” Harley asked, standing up straighter and turning to the door. Tony blinked, and then shook his head. 

“No. No you cannot, that wardrobe costs more than your house-”

“Huh? Sorry, didn’t hear that, too busy pilfering,” Harley waved a hand behind him and opened the door, hearing Tony sigh and mutter something unsavoury behind him. He grinned to himself as he slipped out of the corridor and heard Tony follow behind him. Coming to the Tower often felt more like coming home than it ever did back in Tennessee. Here, he could be an asshole, because Tony was an asshole right back to him. It was an equilibrium. It was just… nice. 

“I regret ever inviting you here,” Tony called out as he followed Harley up to his Penthouse, “you offer me no joy and I wish I’d never met you. How’s things at home?”

“When I’m not here, do you even  _have_ friends?” Harley asked, turning his head and raising his eyebrows. “Home’s still home. Mom’s still waitressing and not giving a shit about me, dad’s still MIA. You know the drill.” He shrugged and then stepped into the elevator, feeling Tony’s shoulder bump against him as he joined him. They stood in silence for a second, before Tony poked him in the ribs and Harley yelped. “What was that for?”

“I dunno. It felt awkward, you were talking about your shitty family and I wanted to lighten the mood.” Tony made a face and then looked over to Harley. “I can have them both killed if you want,” he said with a shrug and a cocked eyebrow. 

Harley just laughed. “Thanks, old man, but I think murder might be frowned upon by some people.”

“Uh, did you just call me ‘old man’?” Tony asked, looking at him in betrayal, “you know what, offer rescinded, I am no longer willing to murder  _anyone_ for you-”

“Awww, c’mon gramps, you know I didn’t mean it like that!” Harley cackled as Tony shoved him irritably into the wall, but then leapt right back to Tony’s side and linked their arms together with a grin. “Hey- you let me wear something cool and Armani, and I’ll not make another age-related joke for the rest of my time here. Deal?”

Tony glared up at him. “You know, I preferred it when you were smaller and less willing to emotionally blackmail me.”

Harley sniggered. “I seem to remember I was emotionally blackmailing you back then too, Tony. I’m just taller now.”

“Yeah, and I hate that,” Tony groused, before ruffling his hair and giving him a gentle shove over to his room, “now shut up and go rifle through my closet. let’s deck you out in some Armani and make Peter fall hopelessly in love with you, shall we?”

-

-

By the time Harley and Tony came down to the workshop, Peter had already set up his work-surface at the desk next to Tony’s, and was preparing a coffee for him and Bruce, who’d arrived about five minutes after Tony has disappeared. He heard them before he saw them, and briefly took another moment to prepare himself before he turned from the counter and put his Casual Face on. 

Across the room, he took in Harley, now with damp hair and a change of clothes- a slightly baggy Armani shirt, skinny jeans and a pair of faded Timberlands. He looked like he belonged on a damn runway- and here Peter was with his faded school sweater, a pair of sweatpants that were at least two sizes too big for him and held up with a bit of rope he’d found in the corner of his room that morning, and no shoes. 

Brilliant. 

Peter looked away rapidly, cheeks flushing scarlet with embarrassment. God, so much for  _alluring_. Harley wore Armani as casual-wear…. he must be loaded to afford that. Peter wouldn’t dare wear his one designer shirt in the lab, because he knew he’d ruin it within five minutes. 

A kid like Harley would never even look twice at someone like him.

Swallowing down his disappointment, he walked hurriedly over to Doctor Banner instead of joining Tony and Harley, and then made sure to spend the next few hours thoroughly avoiding the other boy. Luckily Tony and Bruce were working on different sections, and so while Peter stuck to Bruce like glue (which probably confused the Doctor, but Peter could deal with the embarrassment of that later), Tony and Harley got cracking down on the lower sections of the large instrument that was taking up the majority of the workshop. Bruce had explained that, if this all functioned correctly by the time they had finished, then it would work to condense the carbon dioxide in major cities and turn the products into rock and gravel, which would then lock in the gas and reduce the CO2 levels in the air. One placed in every city would be enough to reduce the national carbon footprint by a quite frankly ridiculous amount, and Peter was here, working at the forefront of it all. It was incredible, it was breathtaking, a complete honour to be a part of…

And all he could think about was the state of his hair.

He hadn’t washed it. It was probably lying, all greasy and gross and flat on his head. What if Harley was looking at him? What if Harley was looking at him and seeing his horribly greasy gross flat hair and laughing at him? God, it was torture. He didn’t even know why he cared so much, he’d hardly said five words to the guy and knew absolutely nothing about him other than the fact that Tony liked him. Maybe if Peter actually spoke to him, he’d realised they didn’t fit at all and he could just relax. 

But he absolutely could not speak to Harley. Not when he looked like  _this._

So instead, he worked very very intently on the task Bruce had set him, and made sure that he did not have to look up and potentially catch the other boy’s eye once. A few times he had to talk to Tony, but he did so by simply shouting across the room rather than walking over to him, leading to a lot of frustrated cursing from Tony himself as he finally caved and walked over to Peter instead.

“You’re being weird,” he informed Peter, “it’s very obvious.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Yes it definitely is. Bruce, he’s being weird isn’t he?”

The other man peered out from behind what he was working on, giving Peter an apologetic face. “Little bit,” he admitted.

Peter just sighed, burying his head further into the book he was studying. He resisted the urge to glance up nervously in the direction he knew Harley was stood, in case it turned out the other boy was looking his way too. “I’m just concentrating very hard on this book,” he tried, “it’s a very fascinating book.”

Tony snorted, which showed just how much he believed in that particular excuse. Then a second later, he flopped down next to Peter, nudging his side gently and then shooting him a knowing look. “He doesn’t bite, you know. I promise.”

Peter couldn’t resist any longer; he shot a rapid glance up over to Harley, feeling his breath catch immediately in his throat as he did so. He wasn’t doing much, simply sat casually on the chair with his feet propped on the desk as he screwed something into place on what looked to be a little robot. His tongue was stuck out in concentration, hair swept out of his face messily, and Peter watched him run a hand through it absently as he leaned forward and pulled the robot closer to his eye-level, muttering something unintelligible. He looked gorgeous.

“He wears Armani in workshops,” Peter said weakly, “that’s a little outta my league-”

“-oh, shut up,” Tony rolled his eyes and smacked him around the back of the head, “I can assure you that is the first time Harley Keener has worn something with a logo on it in his life. U _sually_ he dresses like me after three days in the shop and no sleep. He just wanted to impress you and make himself look cooler.”

At that, Peter put his book down and snorted. “Yeah, right.” Harley didn’t even  _know_ Peter. He was just some stupid greasy kid who’d taken one look at him and nearly snorted coffee up his nose.

But Tony seemed convinced. “He does! He follows your weird instagram page, he told me himself. You really don’t need to be worried about what he thinks of you, Pete- he’s already followed like, every part of your life over these past three months.”

Oh. Peter blinked, looking at Tony in surprise. Harley already knew him? Okay, well, that was… unexpected. Peter wasn’t quite sure what to do with that information. “Does he like it?”

Tony pulled a face and glared at him. “I feel like he wouldn’t be trying so hard to impress you if he didn’t, Pete. Stop being dense. It’s giving me a migraine.”

“Everything gives you a migraine.”

“Well then stop adding to my long list!” Tony shoved him half-heartedly and then stood up, peering over Bruce’s shoulder. “We’re gonna call a break soon anyway. I want Chinese food and a movie- it helps my brain work.”

This time it was Peter’s turn to pull a face, looking to Bruce for support. But again, the man simply shrugged and nodded. “It’s true,” he told Peter, “it’s like a stimulant. For us, anyway. How much Chinese food did we eat while we were creating Vision, d’you think?”

“Oh, like, a fuck-ton. Fatal amounts.”

Bruce looked back at Peter. “There you go. Best things are made on a diet of Chinese and coffee.” He smacked the lid of his computer down and then stretched his back out, standing up off the desk. “I’m probably ready to break right now, actually. You wanna order something?”

Peter glanced over to Harley, now sat watching them all curiously from the other side of the room. They caught one another’s eye, and Peter quickly looked away in embarrassment, turning back to the book and pretending as if he were thoroughly invested in it. “I need to go home first,” he blurted, “shower and stuff. Just order some fried rice for me, yeah?”

Bruce and Tony nodded in acknowledgement, and Tony informed him the food would get there at five and if he didn’t arrive in time his share would almost certainly be eaten. Peter was fully aware of Tony’s love for Chinese and so did not doubt this for a second. He quickly gathered his stuff and then hightailed it out of the tower, promising he would be back within the hour.

He was not back within the hour. 

Admittedly, this was entirely his own fault. But he’d wanted to make sure that he was looking his best, so that certain people didn’t get the wrong impression about him. He could clean up okay when he wanted to, and when he could actually find the right goddamn clothes. “AUNT MAY, WHERE’D YOU PUT MY LEATHER JACKET?”

“HUH?” She called back from the kitchen.

“MY LEATHER JACKET?”

“OH- IT’S IN MY CLOSET,” she informed him, to which he rolled his eyes and then stumbled out of his room, now looking more like a nuclear waste site than a place for humans to live. He saw May peer at him curiously as he walked through the hall, and when he came back out of her room a minute later with his jacket, she raised her eyebrows. “You’re looking dashing,” she told him, “hot date?”

For some reason, it made him blush crimson. “Uh- no, what, of course not… I’m just going back to the tower and wanted to- you know- freshen up.”

She eyed him. “You’re wearing cologne.”

“So?”

“You never wear cologne. You didn’t wear cologne to your Great-Aunt Morticia’s funeral.”

Peter huffed. “Well, maybe I’m just trying something new?” He managed to hold eye contact with her for all of three seconds before caving with a large sigh. “Or… maybe Tony invited one of his other proteges to the tower and they’re really pretty and I don’t know how to act around them at all and I’m gonna look stupid for the next week,” he admitted, feeling his cheeks go hot once more, dammit. 

May put down her ladle and cocked her head. “Well,” she said, “first thing’s first, ditch the tie.”

He looked down. “Really?”

“Yes, Peter, you’re going to the tower to watch movies and eat Chinese food, not try and secure a business deal. Ditch the tie, wear a smile, and show this person how wonderful you are.” She smiled at him. “There will be unable to not fall immediately in love with you.”

He face was bright and earnest, and Peter felt his heart swell with affection as he leaned over to kiss her cheek. “I don’t even… we haven’t even spoke yet,” he admitted with an embarrassed grin, “he might be an asshole.”

“Well, on the off-chance that he’s  _not-”_ May leaned forward and squeezed his cheeks, shooting him another grin, “just make sure to chew gum after your meal.”

Oh, great. Well now Peter was thinking about kissing him, which was stupid and dumb and not even remotely likely to happen. He groaned and then shuffled out of her grip, hearing her chuckling behind him. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” he mumbled, “don’t stay up late just to harass me about it when I get back, please.”

“No promises!” She called out, “Love you!”

“Love you too.”

By the time he actually arrived back at the tower, it was half an hour later than he was supposed to have turned up, and he sighed to himself. That meant he’d have to order himself some more food and wait another thirty minutes then. Great. 

However, when he got to the communal living room where Tony, Bruce and Harley were all lounging around, he noticed in surprise that his takeout box was still there, unopened. He blinked in surprise. “Oh.”

The occupants of the room all turned to him, and Peter pointedly made sure not to look in Harley’s direction. The boy was looking at him, he could tell, but Peter didn’t dare look back. God- how the hell was he supposed to exist like this for a week? He sincerely hoped he built up some courage at some point during Harley’s stay, or it was just going to be awkward for everyone. 

“Oh, he arrives!” Tony called out, throwing up his hands, “only thirty minutes late. We’ve been waiting to start the movie! I had to actually make conversation with those two just to pass the time, it was a goddamn train-wreck.” He flicked his hand over to Bruce and Harley, who both just rolled their eyes. 

“Don’t worry, you haven’t missed much- just some of Tony’s insane inner monologues,” Bruce told him with a gentle smile, “come on- we’re watching Pacific Rim. We even saved your takeout for you.”

“No, Harley saved your takeout for you,” Tony muttered, shooting Peter a sly look before anyone else could see and then looking away again, “I was in favour of just eating it, but for some reason Mr. Keener over here has now decided he’s going to be a good Samaritan and ordered me to save it.”

“I’m always a good Samaritan,” Harley said primly, sliding the box of Peter’s takeout over to him and shooting him a smile that lit up his whole face. It was mischievous, but his eyes were kind. Peter caught himself staring, somewhat transfixed at the beautiful icy colour of his irises, but a moment later he snapped out of it and forced his eyes back to the TV screen. He ignored the stifled laughter that came from Tony’s direction. Bastard.  

He sat down in the middle of sofa between Bruce and Harley, acutely aware of every move that he made in case he brushed up against the other boy. He probably looked like an idiot, sat ramrod straight on the couch and pointedly keeping his eyes on the TV screen. He knew that if he accidentally caught Harley’s eye, he might just start staring like a creep, and no one wanted that. 

God, he was  _terrible_ at this. 

“So, Harley,” Tony said about ten minutes into the film, rolling his head on the couch in order to look over at the other boy, “you found any apartments in New York that are cheap enough to buy yet or are you still looking?”

On his left, Harley sighed dramatically. “New York is too  _expensive_ ,” he whined, “how the fuck am I supposed to afford to even buy a room in this city?”

Tony eyed him. “Oh, I dunno, maybe that bursary Stark Industries granted you would help a little bit, you know? Admit it, you haven’t even started looking yet, have you?”

Peter frowned a little in confusion, looking between Harley and Tony. Harley just pulled a face and flopped further into the couch, folding his arms sullenly. It was kind of cute. “I’ve been busy!” He said defensively, “and I don’t know how to do adult things yet! I’m working up to it.”

“Your planning skills  _astound_ me,” Tony said drily, waving a hand to Peter, “Pete could probably help you out. He’s like a 70 year-old trapped in a teenage body, aren’t you kid?”

He raised his eyebrows over to Peter and then shot him a look. He was giving Peter a chance to enter the conversation, clearly. Peter swallowed, looking between Tony and Harley. “Uhh,” he began, clearing his throat, “uh, why are you even buying a house here? Aren’t you my age?”

Harley smiled (Fuck he had a nice smile) and leaned back against the couch cushions, shooting Tony a glance. “Yeah,” he began, “I am, but I’m also part of the Stark Internship Programme. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for a dumbass from Tennessee like me, so I’m gonna come move to New York in order to take it. Tony’s gonna have to deal with me for the whole program, aren’t you?”

“God help me,” Tony pulled a face and folded his arms.

“But anyway,” Harley shrugged and waved a hand absently as he picked at some of his noodles, “the program starts in a few months and I, uh, still haven’t really… organised anything yet. Because I am a dumbass. Like I said. So.”

Peter huffed in a amusement, but couldn’t help adding another tick onto the Checklist of Harley Keener. Not only was this kid smart, but he was smart enough to be in the SI Internship Programme. That was rare– Peter had barely managed to scrape by through the skin of his teeth.  

So, to summarise: Harley was gorgeous. Harley was funny. Harley was kind (he’d saved Peter’s Chinese food from Tony’s clutches, probably more than once while Peter had been gone). Harley was a good enough person to be known and loved by Tony. Harley was ridiculously clever. 

Harley was 100%, unequivocally out of Peter’s league. 

He tried not to let the realisation show on his face. Well– it was hardly even a  _realisation_ , was it? Peter had known that from the very fucking beginning. Harley just exuded an easy confidence that Peter did not have, he was charming where Peter was horribly awkward, and he moved as if he knew exactly what he was doing. Peter had never stood a chance. 

He was quiet for the rest of the night, unable to quite look the other boy in the eye, God forbid Harley somehow spot the obvious crush Peter had managed to develop over the space of a day. God, that was just pathetic. Tony and Bruce attempted a few more times to bring him back into the conversation, but Peter just didn’t know what to say. He felt awkward and stiff, like his body was suddenly too clumsy and big for him. He talked to Tony, because Tony was easy, but couldn’t bring himself to glance over at Harley, at the risk of doing something stupid like swooning at the sight of him. 

Fuck. Harley Keener had turned him into a mess in under 24 hours– how was Peter supposed to do this for a week? He was going to have to go home and just work on… well, getting over it all, he supposed. It wouldn’t do to just pine over a stranger. That was weird, right? Weird and stupid. 

Yeah. He’d go home, re-evaluate everything, and tomorrow he’d come back crushless and fine. It’d be alright. 

-

-

Dinner had been a disaster, and by the end of it, Harley knew that Peter hated him. 

“What did I do wrong?” He whined, head falling against the kitchen table as Tony set about making coffee for the two of them at 11 at night. Bruce had headed off to bed by that point, and Peter had pretty much sprinted back home as soon as the movie was done, so it was just him and Tony now. “I wasn’t an asshole, was I? Was I an asshole? I don’t remember being an asshole.”

“You’re always an asshole,” Tony leaned up into the cupboard to pull out two mugs, sliding one across the table toward Harley, “it’s your default mode. But no, you weren’t any worse than usual. In fact, I’d even say you were quite nice, which was surprising. You saved his Chinese food.”

Harley nodded. “I did, didn’t I? Why would he hate me for that?”

“He doesn’t hate you, Harley–”

“Well he quite clearly does, he didn’t even look me in the eye!”

Tony paused, and then sighed heavily, looking up at the ceiling. Harley wasn’t sure whether he was praying to God or just sharing a silent conversation with JARVIS. “I did not ask for this,” he muttered to himself, almost too quiet for Harley to hear, “I did  _not_ ask to have to be the middle-man between a pair of pining teenagers, Jesus fucking  _Christ.”_

Tony turned around and then leaned against the kitchen, looking at Harley. “Peter is an awkward 17 year old who has no idea how to act around you, because, despite how trashy you are in reality, you do in fact put on quite a good appearance of having it all together. Peter is looking at you and thinking, ‘whoah, that boy is so cool. I’m not cool enough for that Cool Boy’.”

Harley’s brow wrinkled. “How d’you… why would he think that?”

“Beats me,” Tony’s hand flew out helplessly as he turned back to the coffee, “the kid’s a Godsend and one day,  _one fucking day_ he’ll actually realise that. But for now, he’s still holding onto the crippling self esteem.” His head turned back to Harley and he raised an eyebrow, his expression a little softer. “Think you need to have a little more confidence in yourself too, Keener. You’re not so awful either.”

Harley just pouted. It wasn’t that he thought he was awful, per se, it was just that… well, Peter was so much  _better_. Peter was a cool city kid, he was a brilliant photographer, he was perfect. 

Harley was just Harley. Asshole from Tennessee with a mom who couldn’t give a shit about him and no real friends to call his own. Tony Stark, a man he’d met one time when he was seven, was the closest thing he had to family. 

Realistically, he just knew he couldn’t compare with that. 

“There’s a place in Brooklyn,” Harley blurted, because God, he really didn’t want to dwell on that sort of shit, “I literally just found it on the ride up to New York this morning, actually. S’nice. One-bedroom apartment, little kitchenette. Pretty nice area.”

Tony poured coffee into his mug and then leaned across the table, doing the same to Harley’s. Harley glanced up at him as he did it, eyes drawing over to the light in Tony’s chest. Last time he’d seen Tony had been about four months ago, and the reactor hadn’t been put back in at that point. “Okay, well that’s a start,” Tony nodded approvingly and then flopped onto the stool behind him, “I can come with you to check it out tomorrow, if you want.”

“Nah, it’s–”

“Oh, God, sorry, sometimes I forget not to sound polite all the time. I meant ‘I’m coming with you to check it out, so that I know you’re not moving into a place full of asbestos and situated in-between two rival gangs.” Tony grinned at him, and God, he was an asshole. Harley loved him. 

“Maybe I want to be living between two rival gangs,” He questioned, “maybe that’s all part of my plan.”

“Yeah, kid, that’s the problem. It probably  _is_ part of your plan, and as the only vaguely responsible adult in your life, I need to make sure it does not go ahead. You’d probably try and get into an ethical debate with a crackhead while they’re pointing a gun at you, and I’d rather not deal with that cleanup.”

They both laughed, and Harley raised the cup to his lips and took a large gulp of the black coffee at the same time Tony did. Both of them sighed appreciatively.

Then Tony put the mug down and shuffled in his pockets, pulling out a pen. He leaned forward and grabbed Harley’s arm. “Hold still.”

Harley obeyed, letting Tony write out a string of numbers on his arm which he realised was a phone number. He frowned. “What–”

“That is Peter Parker’s cell number,” Tony said, stabbing a finger against Harley’s forearm. “You are going to text him tonight. He’ll still be awake at this point.”

His eyes widened. “Nuh uh.”

“Yes.”

“No! He doesn’t like me and I’m not going to embarrass mys–”

“He does,” Tony rolled his eyes, but then his face turned earnest as he looked down at Harley, “I promise, kid. Trust me. Just… God, just say hey, start a conversation, don’t do anything weird like spam him with pictures of clowns like you do to me. He’ll be better over text. It’s less awkward for him.”

Harley bit his lip and looked down at the string of numbers. “If I make an idiot of myself, you have to buy me a Ferrari.”

“You know what, I’m so confident that I will take that bet.” Tony stuck out a hand, and after Harley shook it, the man shooed him away. “Now fuck off and go talk to him. Breakfast will be at like, 9, probably, depending on how much sleep I get. Have fun.” 

Harley stood up slowly, cup of coffee still held in his hands as Tony backed away and then turned over to the counter once again. He was muttering something about teen rom-coms and ‘geniuses are so fucking stupid, I swear to God’. Harley chose to ignore it in favour of backing out of the room, a hand diving into his pocket and collecting his phone. He gripped it nervously between two hands, holding it all the way up on the elevator ride to his room. He finished the coffee as soon as he got in and then tossed the mug onto his desk before flopping on the bed, looking at the phone number on his arm. 

_Should I, shouldn’t I?_

God, it was dumb. This whole  _thing_ was dumb. Harley was overthinking it– this was just a cute boy with a cute smile and a cute heart– Harley needed to suck it up and text him, the same way he texted everyone else. If he didn’t respond, he didn’t respond. So what? He could get over it. He probably wouldn’t even see Peter after this week anyway. It’d be fine.  _Just grow a spine and do it, Keener._

He braced himself and opened his phone. 

**Hey, Peter. This is Harley, the dumbass from Tennessee.**


End file.
